Disclaimer: Still a better love story than Twilight
1. It Begins
Lord of the mighty family that rules Netherwood, Aryon hid beneath the gloomy foliage for his entire life, living a life devoted to his books. A master swordsman and archer, Aryon was devoted to the perfection of both the arts of war and healing. Under his leadership, Netherwood was to become a mighty kingdom once more with the military strength to safeguard the countless tomes of lore that were hidden within the oppressive borders of Netherwood. These dreams were his passion… until he met Rungvild.
However, life began to bore the ageing elf whose soul was no longer alight with the flame of youth. Keen to reignite that flame, Aryon sought out a dubious part of Netherwood renowned for the arts of pleasure. Sitting on the edge where the light of the flames was fought back by the darkness of the trees, Aryon's gaze came to rest upon a familiar dwarf joining in with the 'festivities'.
With a stifled gasp, Aryon scrambled further into the darkness but it was too late, Rungvild had spotted him. Aryon turned and ran, leaving the sordid scenes behind him. When he returned to the mansion, he sought out his favourite reading chair and dressing gown and curled up by the fire, shivering despite its warmth.
He lay like this for what seemed like decades, until footsteps and a soft rapping at the library door brought him back to the present. Hesitantly, Rungvild entered, his hair slightly dishevelled and tunic agape revealing his muscular chest. His bearded face was illuminated by the light of the lightning that raged outside. In that moment, Aryon ceased to shiver, as the sight of Rungvild lit a fire within him that he had never known before. As Rungvild entered the library, a flick of Aryon's wrist shut the oak doors behind him and they were alone. Silence reigned, only broken by the staccato of the falling rain and mighty thunder claps.
Coyly, Rungvild approached and Aryon could see the same desire he felt reflected in the dwarf's eyes. He stood to meet Rungvild, kneeling before the dwarf who rose onto his tiptoes. Lovingly they stared into each other's eyes, leaning into each other as their lips met for the briefest of moments.
They jumped apart as a loud knock sounded from the oak doors. "A moment please" Aryon called, as he hurried to calm his beating heart.
"Sir, we have an important message, one of the villagers has called for you." Interrupted the servant behind the doors. "Komli the Incompetent has arrived and gravely injured the tavern wench."
Pushing himself from Rungvild's arms, Aryon hurried to the door with a shout "Not that wannabe necromancer again! I thought we banished him from our lands after the last undead horde who set alight our royal visitors, Eric Renly's hair still hasn't grown back." He pushed open the door to see his loyal servant Dawg waiting with traveling cloak in hand. "Escort Rungvild back to his quarters, I will not return before the morrow." With one last shared loving glance between Rungvild and himself, he winked at the muscular Dwarf and hurried off.
(To be continued)
By Lord Aryon (or daddy no.1 to his devoted daughters)